


risk it for the biscuit

by Anemoi



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: .......biscuit porn, Food Porn, M/M, biscuits - Freeform, not a mcvitie's ad despite uh everything about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 23:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20182156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anemoi/pseuds/Anemoi
Summary: Andy wants to think his intentions were pure when he started out, that it was some misconstrued action on his part, or James’ that brought about everything that happened after- maybe it was a wrong look, or something, maybe he just moaned a little too loud shoving that biscuit into his mouth filming that GOAT video- regardless, he hadn’t meant for it to happen, and so he shouldn’t be held accountable.





	risk it for the biscuit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raumdeuter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raumdeuter/gifts), [saltstreets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltstreets/gifts).

> discarded titles:  
  

> 
> and for the final title.... i give my heart and thanks to [caitwin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brampersandon)
> 
> lads,,,,,,, u made me do this

Andy wants to think his intentions were pure when he started out, that it was some misconstrued action on his part, or James’ that brought about everything that happened after- maybe it was a wrong look, or something, maybe he just moaned a little too loud shoving that biscuit into his mouth filming that GOAT video- regardless, he hadn’t meant for it to happen, and so he shouldn’t be held accountable. 

But. Then again- He’d wanted to buy James biscuits, proper ones, mostly out of guilt because James’ had eaten about two from the whole assortment while Andy had taken a bite from almost all of them. So when they’d gotten back to Liverpool he’d gone to Tesco’s, perused the shelves thoroughly, and finally chosen the McVitie’s ginger nut. Surely one can’t go wrong with McVitie’s. Following that train of thought he threw in a pack of chocolate digestives, then two more assorted biscuits for good measure. 

Nevertheless, he’d almost talked himself out of it by the time he got out of his car and trotted up to James’ door. It’s drizzling in Liverpool, warm even at the close of summer. There’s a light on on the second floor, so Andy rings the bell and waits, agonizing seconds dragging on- and it’s typical, really, that James tugs open the door just as Andy’s given up and turned away to walk back to his car. 

“Andy?” 

Andy swivels back, plastic bag with biscuits smacking against his leg. James smiles, a half smile really, the one that means he’s amused but unwilling to show it. 

“Brought you biscuits,” Andy says, lamely, holding up the bag. 

-

James put the kettle on, then leaned against his kitchen counter, examining the pack of ginger nut like he’s someone from quality control. Andy’s already ripped open his digestives and crammed half of one in his mouth.   
  
James looks up, quirking an eyebrow. “The tea’s not even done yet.” 

“The top one broke,” Andy says, more defensively than he intended. “Might as well.” 

James grins. Andy’s suddenly aware James is only wearing a T shirt and old tracksuit pants, barefoot. It shouldn’t have mattered, really. He’d seen James in less so many times, in dressing rooms and, other times he tried to shove away behind a veneer of indifference. It’s just that James seemed so comfortable, and Andy can’t help wondering what it _ meant _, when James always emitted this aura of wary politeness around other people. 

Then he realises he’d been staring, far too late, and tries to look away at the kettle. It’s gently spewing steam up at the cupboards.   
  
“You’ve got chocolate on your mouth,” James says, chuckling. He comes over, and he slides a hand around Andy’s face before Andy could protest. 

It’d be more than denial if he’d admitted, now, that this wasn’t what he’d been angling for, coming over to James’ with a pack of biscuits as his excuse. James pressing in close, warm mouth against Andy’s. Andy’s hands settle on James’ waist, automatic. He’s learned this by now, slipping a hand under the worn waistband of James’ boxers, listening to James’ breath stutter-

“Go on,” James says, pulling away. “Have another one.” 

Andy blinks. 

“Go on,” James says again. He walks over to the kettle, pours water over the waiting tea bags in their mugs. “Milk?” 

“Yeah,” Andy says, fully nonplussed. He takes a bite of the other half of the chocolate digestive, even though it sticks a bit going down. James hands him his mug and Andy sips, grateful for the warm liquid. It turns all the dry crumbly bits of the biscuit into soft chocolatey goodness, and yeah, maybe he moans a bit. He opens his eyes to James grinning, blowing at the surface of his own tea. 

“You gonna have a ginger nut?” Andy says around his mouthful. “I thought you wanted a proper one.” 

James shrugs. He sets the tea down and folds his arms over his chest. Andy’s unnerved, again, even with the bolster of warm biscuit in his stomach. James doesn’t say anything, so all Andy could do was eat another biscuit, which he does. He’s trying to think of something to fill the silence, which made him want to crunch quieter. He swallows. James is still just watching him, shaking his head slightly. 

“What?” Andy says, slightly hoarse from all the nervous eating. “You’re just going to watch me eat all the digestives?” 

“I thought that’s the point,” James says, raising his eyebrows. 

“I just,” Andy says, “The biscuits- they weren’t-” He flushes. Sometimes Andy feels like he could run faster than James but never keep up with what he’s thinking. So he just stares at James, then, forces himself to meet James’ gaze and not flinch away. Sometimes he just- wants. 

James’ face softens, and he comes over, runs a thumb along the line of Andy’s mouth. 

“You don’t realise how you look, Robbo,” he says, like it’s an explanation. 

Andy wants to tell him he still doesn’t quite understand, but James kisses him again. He’s undone the button on Andy’s jeans and pushed them down around his hips. Then he kneels down- Andy feels his knees get weak at the sight of it, _ what _ a cliche, unable to look away from the bend of James’ neck and his shoulders, the curve of his muscles under the thin material of his shirt. Andy braces both hands on the counter behind him, tries to stop the stutter of his breathing. 

He’s slightly embarrassed that he’s already half hard from that. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before, but- the darkness of hotel rooms doesn’t quite relate to this, in James’ clean quiet kitchen with half the lights off and James kneeling on his own heated tile floor. James looks up at him and grins, a little bit, reaches out to pull Andy’s boxers down as well. Andy watches as he takes Andy’s dick in his hand and then leans forward- Andy feels the soft puff of James’ breath against his dick, before James closes his mouth over it, and he moans, reaching out to tug at James’ too short hair. 

It’s like his moan worked as a catalyst, because James moves his hand and swallows around Andy’s dick, and Andy jerks his hips forwards, unthinking. Just the tight, hot pressure of it, thrusting into James’ mouth- 

James sucks off, and it makes an obscenely loud sound, and he grins wide at Andy’s face. Andy can feel himself blushing, probably as red as that time he forgot to put on sunscreen at training. He’s still so hard it’s sort of difficult to think.

“Your tea’s getting cold,” James says. “Eat a digestive.” 

“What?” Andy says, faintly. James’ just looking at him, so he gropes across the counter until he finds the digestive packet and digs one out. James’ just looking at him, and Andy can’t drag his eyes away from his parted lips, the way his eyes widen slightly as Andy takes a bite out of the biscuit. 

“Talk to me, Andy,” James says, deliberate. “How is it.” 

“It’s good,” Andy says. He shoves the rest of the biscuit in his mouth and sucks the melted chocolate off his fingers. James groans a bit, at that. Andy hopes it was a good, sexy groan instead of a _ that’s disgusting Robbo _groan, but he needn’t have worried. James just leans in again, and Andy’s back to clinging on the counter. His hips jerk, wild, and James wraps an arm around his thigh, hand sliding up to Andy’s ass. 

“Jimmy,” Andy says, when he comes. He kicks off his jeans afterwards and slides down to sit on his discarded clothes. The tiles are very warm, Andy thinks. Maybe he should get heated flooring in his kitchen, too. He watches James drink his tea like he hadn’t just been sucking Andy off. 

“Ginger nut?” James says, offering the packet to Andy. 

“Only if you let me eat it off you,” Andy says. He wants to take it back almost immediately, but James looks somewhat speculative. _ Oh, _Andy thinks. It always kind of took him too long to get things. 

“James… James,” Andy says, grinning, “You should’ve said.” 

James just looks at him, unaffected, and tosses him the packet. 

“Go on then,” Andy says, “Strip off and I’ll lay a nice trail down your tummy.” 

Andy’s still half expecting James to refuse, to crack a smile and reveal it was all just an elaborate charade, another joke at Andy’s expense. He doesn’t expect James to just step out of his worn tracksuit bottoms and boxers, then pull off his shirt in one smooth movement. He’s hard. That seemed like everything Andy was going to get in order to believe this wasn’t a prank, so Andy just rips open the packet of ginger nuts and obliges. 

“Does this tickle?” he says, placing a careful cookie under James’ chin, on his clavicle. James is biting his lip, holding back a grin. He shakes his head, so Andy puts down another one, this time flat in the middle of his chest. He’s spacing them out, analyzing the layout with a critical eye, until James clears his throat. 

“Oh,” Andy says. “Can I pick it up? With my hands, I mean, or do I just-” 

James rolls his eyes. “Eat it _ off _me, Robbo.” 

So Andy tries. He doesn’t actually succeed, because Ginger Nuts are way too big for him to pick up and eat with just his mouth. He tries, though, grazing James’ skin with his teeth as he maneuvered around for a better grip. 

James is looking down fondly at him, when Andy raises his eyes with half a biscuit hanging out of his mouth. 

“You’re really terrible at this, Robbo,” James says. Andy deflates, sweeps the rest of the biscuits off James- he’d gotten three, halfway down James’ torso- and flops down beside him. He groans. 

“I’ve made a right mess,” Andy says, muffled into his hands. 

James doesn’t say anything, but he pulls Andy’s hands away from his face. He’s smiling that not- quite smile, like they’re both in on the same joke and they both knew, exactly what will happen, and that makes Andy’s chest feels tight. It’s ridiculous, that, just a _ look _, and he finds it hard to reconcile this James with the vice captain on the pitch, the one who doesn’t give an inch and was cool and relentless and everything Andy looked up to. And Andy couldn’t explain why. Just again, that want in him, settling in low and warm in his stomach. 

So he sits up and makes sure James is watching, before reaching over deliberately and dunking a Ginger Nut in James’ lukewarm tea. It’s still good tea, even when cold, and it does the job anyway. The biscuit practically melts in his mouth. Andy swallows, then leans forward and kisses James. James licks his lips when Andy pulls away. 

“So?” Andy says. “Can we get to the bedroom yet? We can take the biscuits.” 

James shakes his head. “Crumbs, Robbo. Crumbs.” 

That made Andy laugh, James’ solemn expression, like a pious choir boy mildly scandalized that Andy would even suggest such a thing. Before Andy can think too hard about it and change his mind he slaps what’s left of the biscuit down on James’ chest - the slightest surprised stutter from James - and straddles him. He leans over James, careful, putting his hand down flat on James’ chest. 

Maybe it’s just because what’s left was around bitesize, because Andy gets it in one go. He hears James breath in, sharp, when Andy’s teeth grazes a nipple as he crunches biscuit. He looks up at James, vaguely triumphant, but the look on James’ face stops him from making any quips about it. 

James flips him over. Andy wonders about the logistics of swallowing while he’s lying down, but James is holding his own dick, sort of jerking it awkwardly. He’s focused on Andy’s mouth, eyes wide. 

Andy knocks James’ hand away, gently. He takes James’ dick and jerks him off, slowly at first because it’s a bad angle until James shifts to accommodate him better. All the time James is just watching him, until Andy hits the right rhythm and James swears, gently. His hands come up and cup Andy’s face, runs along the line of his lower lip and brushes away crumbs at the corner of his mouth. Andy feels the heat rising to his face, as James’ hand latches on the back of Andy’s neck and tightens. 

James feels all slick and hot under his hand, and he’s shaking a bit now, eyes fluttering shut. Andy says, “Hey, Jimmy. James.” 

He used his free hand to grab a biscuit. James opens his eyes and stares at Andy biting down on the biscuit. It’s a digestive, this time, Andy licking chocolate off his fingers and jerking James off with his other hand. 

James actually moans, and Andy can’t help the surge of satisfaction from speeding his arm up a little, James’ eyes going wide and his fingers tightening on Andy’s shoulder-

“Robbo,” James says, “God, Robbo-” 

He comes and Andy pulls him down to the floor, the two of them collapsed on each other until their breathing slows and syncs up. Andy wants to pass out into a food coma right then and there. 

James shifts. “Aren’t you on a diet?” 

Andy opens his eyes a slit, squinting. “Am I? Whose fault is it if I gained ten pounds?” 

James laughs, and Andy can feel the vibrations in his chest because they’re still pressed close. 

“Maybe next time,” Andy says, dreamy, “I can, I dunno, iron your shirts or something.” 

James props himself up on his elbows, and Andy groans, seeing the look on his face. “You’re joking.” 

“Maybe,” James says, patting crumbs off his chest and grinning. “You’ll find out.”


End file.
